Turning Point
by Xovinn
Summary: When Hisana died, Byakuya disappeared from the face of Earth. Now, five years later, a writer called Zenbonzakura has made his appearance. To a certain red head, his style is almost too familiar... but why are the texts filled with anxiety? RenBya, AU
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.

A/N: Strange. ByaRen is my favourite Bleach pairing yet I have not written any stories about it.

This must be fixed at once!

So, yeah. That is basically a backstory for this fic. There will be no lemons, and even the romance has to be looked for most of the time. How sad.

But I actually had something to say: This thing moves in to time lines, don't get confused. I'll try to fit the 'past' parts in separate chapters, and include the word in the chapter title.

But now, prologue.

* * *

The room was dimly lit, a mere excuse of a light lingered from between the closed blinds. Only sound that a human ear could catch in that room was the fast paced tapping of a keyboard.

He was writing.

The light disappeared among with the setting sun, and returned as it rose again from the East. The man was still on his place, typing. On his face was a serious, concentrated expression, one that warned anyone from disturbing him.

Unlike so many other people, he didn't hunch over the table to be closer what he was writing. His posture was unnaturally straight. Thinking about it, the whole man seemed somehow unnatural, especially in that room. The dust and spiderwebs had taken over what had probably once been a very neat and clean space. They climbed over the furniture, making the expensive silk materials look like relics from the past. It was like the room itself was the past, and the man was strange visitor from the future, a pale ghost who had no words to say but everything to write.

Kuchiki Byakuya had never been a man of many words. He was a silent presence that had no use for colourful expressions and emotions. He watched, but never told anyone what he truly saw, what he truly thought.

So many important things left unsaid. Now, when he had found the words it was too late to use them. She wouldn't hear the anymore.

For him it didn't matter. He needed to say those words, for himself if no one else. If the words weren't said, they would disappear. He would forget them. He would question himself, wonder if those words were mere dreams. If those happy days were just a illusions created by his lonely mind.

He had been silent for so long. Even after she had disappeared from his life, he hadn't found the right words. He had been there, at the funeral, and stared at her grave. There were no words for such a deep feeling of loss, so he had thought. The words would mock his sorrow, make it bare and vulnerable. He protected his grief just like he protected his pride, with strict set of rules.

So he said nothing for the longest time. The silence was unlike anything he had experienced before. It was high like a mountain and deep as an ocean.

In some point, he came to realise that he was the one who was mocking. He was mocking the loss of his most important person by staying silent. He was making the words disappear in to the silence, the words that his beloved wife deserved. The words of love and appreciation he hadn't had courage and character to say when she was still alive.

And if hey would disappear without a trance, how could Byakuya be sure they ever even existed?

He would find words for every one of those feelings. If there wasn't one, he would invent it. Not a single word would go unsaid any longer. Even if it would take his whole life, he would achieve his goal.

It might be the last thing he would do in this life.

Byakuya willed those thoughts away. He had no time to waste thinking about what would become after.

Maybe she would look at him from above, from the clouds. Maybe she would see all the things he wrote and appreciate the gesture, if nothing more. Maybe she would smile.

The silent tapping continued. He was writing.


	2. Literature

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.

"You know.. this is getting a bit weird, Abarai. Are you sure you are ok? Has an obsession, depression or some other -sion word gotten ya? Should we get a doctor?"

Renji sighed. What made it extremely annoying was that Ikkaku was actually saying that with a straight face. He was very concerned, and he was not the only one. Renji could tell it from the odd looks of everyone who entered his cube and the silent whispers surrounding him in the cafeteria.

"_You've heard about Abarai yet? He is so hardcore Zenbonzakura fan it isn't even funny anymore."_

"_Yeah. They say he has covered his walls with his texts and studies them every night. It's creepy."_

"_I heard that he wants to find out who he is."_

"_That's impossible, mate."_

"_I know it. He doesn't."_

And so on. Bastards, spreading rumors behind his back. Renji just hoped that all of those dimwits had the gut to come and say that to his face, so he could punch them for it.

However, they weren't completely off the case even if a bit misled. Renji wasn't trying to find out who Zenbonzakura was, he knew it already. What he wanted to know was where that guy had been hiding all these years and, even more importantly, where was he now. Even a mere thought about finding him again, talking to him again made his fist grasping the edge of the table tighten, knuckles whitened.

"Dude. You should answer when people are talking to ya, you know."

For the first time during their one-sided discussion, Renji looked up. Ikkaku could see that at least the rumors about the man's sleepless nights were correct. Plus, even his cube was filled with the texts of that man, the genius writer who wrote almost anything.

Renji himself waved his hand dismissively and presented Ikkaku one of his famous grins. "It ain't like you to be worrying like that, Ikkaku. There is nothing wrong, I'm just a major fanboy. Even you must realize that he is pretty awesome."

"Sure. Still, I have feeling there is something about this whole thing you're not telling..." Ikkaku looked suspicious.

"It's all in your head. Maybe it's you that should get it checked." To underline his not existing interest in the matter, Renji slowly picked his nose, keeping his gaze on Ikkaku the whole time.

The bald man made a face. "Whatever, man. Geez, I was just trying to be helpful. You seriously lack respect towards your senpais." He grunted, turned around and slammed the door on his way out. Renji smirked. _What a temper. _

Zenbonzakura. During the last six months, that name had made itself known all over the contry. He had published a few novels, more than a few short story collections and plethora of poetry and lyrics. The amount of writings had even lead to speculations of Zenbonzakura being a group rather than a person. Renji snorted at the thought. _Yeah right, like that style could be copied._

Renji had read so many documents written by Byakuya that he had memorized his way of writing, twisting words and sentences and putting them into a form that he knew it better than his own rude and blunt way of expressing himself. There was a nobe touch in the way Kuchiki treated language, and to Renji every poem could as well be a signed.

Zenbonzakura was a genius who had caught the attention of audiences nation wide, and could easily make a shitloads of money with his talent by signing a contract to some publisher and coming out from behind the nickname to give interviews and take the attentive in selling his own books. That was exactly what he refused to do, though.

For some unknown reason Zenbonzakura wanted to stay anonymous freelancer, sending his works to smaller or mediocre publishers and literature magazines, such as _Soul Society_. He delivered his works to publishers and collected the payments with the help of two agents called Urahara Kisuke and Yoruichi Shihouin. The duo had been constantly pestered by media, but they had refused to give out Zenbonzakura's identity or whereabouts.

Renji growled, sending a deadly glare to the back of _Red Rebellion, _as it could deliver his message to it's author.

_I have some unfinished business with you, fucker._

Five years ago, Kuchiki had been one of the most promising lawyers on the field. At the age of twenty eight he had an almost spotless record of cracking the hardest and the most challenging cases there were. He was a man admired by many, especially his young assistant Renji.

Unfortunately, Renji was nothing but air to the object of his adoration. That was to be expected, and Renji held no bitter feelings about the fact. In the end, Byakuya was a big name, handsome, rich and married to a beautiful woman whom he loved more than anything. There wasn't any reason for him to pay any more attention to Renji than it took to order him around in the office. Renji had accepted this as a challenge while he worked hard to proof his worth. Someday he would be as rich and known, and then he would be able to talk to Byakuya face to face.

It all fell apart when Byakuya's wife's younger sister was brought in front of the court. The charges were that she had been smuggling some illegal weaponry to terrorists. Renji remembered that day very well. Rukia hadn't looked scared at all, she had humbly accepted her destiny to be put in jail for good because of the crime she hadn't committed. Renji was sure about it, he knew Rukia. The girl had said herself that she hadn't known about the existence of such a weapon until the terrorists took it from her. How was she in possession of it, she couldn't explain.

Renji had decided to test out his wings and stood by and defended the woman who was like sister to him. He did a good job, effectively digging into the vital questions of the case.

He would have made it if his opponent weren't Kuchiki Byakuya.

In the end, all of the Renji's defences were practically crushed. Due to being a first time crime offender, Rukia got only seven years in jail.

After that day Renji resigned from his job. He didn't want to see that man ever again, much less to be like him. The man had betrayed not only his wife's sister but Renji as well... To think that he had wasted all these years of his life made him angry beyond reason. He ended up working wherever he could, with much less payment than he used to.

After a few months, Byakuya's wife died from serious illness. The man himself retired as well, his promising career in pieces. Some rumors said that he had killed himself, some other that he had gotten a new identity and new start in somewhere else. No one knew for sure.

Renji had tried his best to forget the man. It had been hard for him to believe, that the man whom he thought he knew had turned out to be completely someone else. For many years he had been successfully ignoring most of the thoughts and complicated feelings towards the man he wouldn't ever see again.

That was before the texts. That was before he read _Red Rebellion._

The novel was about a young man raised in streets who threw away his life in order to protect what he thought was right. He fought to safe a woman who did nothing wrong, but ended up losing against the corrupted nobles, who desperately hang on their believes of 'justice'. The introduction of the book held a line from near the end of the story: '_Those who know no justice, have mercy in their hearts. Protecting those who have no power, they will be crushed. This is the way of the world.'_

Renji couldn't shake of the feeling that those words were directed to him, as an apology. Maybe it was a high time to forgive and forget. During the last five years, he had missed Byakuya's presence in his life. He missed working for him and with him, missed his unwavering sense of power and control when he stepped into the room. After leaving the man and going on with his life, he had not once felt like he belonged where he was.

If he would find him. They could have a new start.

Once again skipping his official work, he returned back to his personal project. He carefully took out the pile of poems, reading them carefully line from line as he had done at least hundred times before. _Just give me one lead, a clue. I won't let you get away._


	3. Past: Misery

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.

The room was simply, yet elegantly decorated. There was no more furniture than was necessary; two worktables on opposite sides, a painting and a clock. A window opened a view over tall buildings and busy streets crowded with people. The floor was covered by a light gray mat. Only audible voice was the ticking of the clock.

By the two tables sat two men who seemed to have nothing in common. On the right side sat a red haired man, constantly stealing glances to the clock. He was a young, barely over his twenties and obviously impatient to get away from the office and to enjoy the slowly but steadily falling Friday evening.

The man on the other side was older, closer to thirty than twenty. His hair was black and neatly combed and his skin pale, as his appearance was as different as possible from the other on purpose. He was aware of the desperate calls of boredom, but he was determined to hold the other on his place till five o'clock. In the name of good work moral, of course.

There were still twenty more minutes to go. Even more to Byakuya, who had work he refused to finish when Renji was still present. Whether this was because of his own stupid, slightly paranoidic reasons or common sense he wasn't sure.

Byakuya's pencil kept moving on the surface of paper, drawing flawlessly shaped numbers and letters. The words he wrote were empty and meaningless, he knew this. He merely pretended to be working, filling out files that weren't worth of his attention. He could give them to any other lower ranked office worker. Or Renji.

Then he would be forced to deal with his real work, the case he know he was going to win if he put his mind into it. He didn't want to do it. Even these last few minutes, he wanted to postpone what had to be done.

The clock was nearly five.

Byakuya looked at Renji, and sudden envy and bitterness twisted his heart. The younger man was looking out of the window and wore a dreamy expression on his face. No doubt he was thinking about the night to come and the adventures it held for a young person like him. Byakuya wasn't that old himself, but his life held no adventures. He was going home to keep company to his sickly wife. When she would fall asleep he would stay alive and fill out more papers, read reports and make phone calls.

Renji looked away from window, catching his boss staring. He grinned embarrassedly and scratched awkwardly the back of his haid. "Umm.. it has been a long day?" He offered as an excuse. Not minding the fact that Byakuya's day had been as long if not longer.

Byakuya sighed and let go of his pencil. "It has", he agree with a deadpanning voice. "Maybe we should call it a day. Feel free go home, Abarai."

The man's expression brightened, even though it was exactly the time he was supposed to be free from his duty. The look he gave to Byakuya made the older man turn away, confused. He never knew how he should face those eyes that held such a deep respect towards him, among other things. Things Byakuya would like to keep unidentified, but he unfortunately was aware what they were.

He was a married man. He couldn't encourage the feelings which he could never answer. Even if... but that shouldn't be even considered.

Renji blushed and tore his eyes away from the pale man. Quickly, he gathered his belongings and was off, stopping only to a small bow and quiet 'have a good evening, sir' before he was out of the door.

Leaving Byakuya alone with his depressing thoughts. The man slowly let his forehead to fall into his shaking hands.

From his point of view, the world was falling apart. Hisana's life was slipping away, now faster than ever. No matter how much money Byakuya had, he couldn't pay himself free from this. Even the best doctors of the world couldn't save Hisana. She would die.. so young...

On top of that, her husband was hoping for her death. He wanted it to happen quickly, before this case got out. Slowly, like he was handling something utterly disgusting he opened a drawer from his desk and pulled out a paper with a picture of a girl about Renji's age.

He stared at it with a growing desperation. _Rukia, why it has to be this way?_

The file held no answers. It was a case about smuggling of illegal weaponry. According to it the girl, his wife's younger sister he knew very well, had successfully delivered a nuclear bomb to a criminal organisation.

Byakuya was sure she hadn't do it. In his heart he knew that this was all such a big misunderstanding, even though there was evidence. It had to be a set up.

What could he do? It seemed to be a clear case. He couldn't save her. If Hisana lived to see this her heart would shatter. And what about Renji? Could he forgive him for this?

Byakuya stared at the empty seat. _The law is absolute, Renji. I cannot, we cannot, fight against it and win. I hope I could tell you this._

And when Hisana was finally gone, free from her suffering, maybe he and Renji could... someday, in the faraway future...

No. He shut his eyes to prevent the escaping of the tears. He couldn't think it, hope something that could never happen, and on the expense of his wife who was still bravely clinging to the last strands of her life. He was a horrible person.

_Maybe I really do deserve this. _

The sun was setting, and he had not left his place. The last warming, orange beams of sunlight revealed the sad scene of a lonely man who had apparently fallen asleep, forehead still resting on his hands.

Then the darkness fell.


	4. Poetry

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.

A/N: There is a poem written by Byakuya in this chapter. It is a masterpiece.

...

Pretend with me, people.

* * *

Yoruichi swiped away a layer of dust from on top of a tasteful armchair with a displeased grimace. She wasn't exactly a friend of extreme cleanliness, only Urahara knew how sloppy she could truly be, but the decreasing state of her old friend's apartment saddened her. The lights were never lit, dust covered almost every available space and surface. If she didn't know any better, she would say the small apartment was unoccupied. It was silent like a grave.

Maybe it was true in a way, she thought as she sat down to look the back of a writing man, it was home only for a walking corpse.

Byakuya didn't let the uninvited guest bother himself. If he even noticed the woman's presence he didn't show it, not stopping writing even for a second. At first Yoruichi had tried talking to him, months ago when she and Urahara had taken the position of Byakuya's "agents", but he didn't seem to be to eager to chat. He answered when asked direct question, but stayed otherwise silent.

On the corner of table lied a thick stack of paper, some of Byakuya's finished writings. Yoruichi or Urahara stopped by a few times in every two weeks. They payed the almost nonexistent bills of the water and electricity, dropped of some canned food and took the scripts he had been working on. Selling the scripts was a good business, even if the prices were ridiculously cheap considering Byakuya's talent. Most of the profit went to Urahara's and Yoruichi's pockets, since Byakuya didn't care about the money.

He said he wouldn't need it much longer.

"You're looking thin", she said to the man, not even expecting him to answer. "You should eat something else than instant ramen and tuna, just for variety."

Byakuya didn't say anything. The silent tapping noise of his writing didn't even slow down, as if he tuned out all the comments the dark skinned lady voiced out of habit. It would have annoyed a lesser woman, but Youruichi was used to it. It wasn't even a new development, Byakuya had always tried his best to ignore her. The new development was that he was succeeding.

"Fine, be that way." The feline woman threw her hands behind her neck and searched for more comfortable position. "Do you still remember Renji? Abarai Renji?"

The writing stopped. Yoruichi smirked, apparently pleased with herself. "Seems like there is still a bit life in you. That guy seems to know who you are. He is looking for you." She yawned, scratching her back. "He keeps asking about you now and then. Apparently he is working for some literature magazine and getting shitty payment, so sometimes he does cleaning and other small stuff at Urahara's shop to get some free food. The jackass."

Byakuya said nothing, but Yoruichi knew he was listening. "He seems to know we can't or won't tell anything, but he keeps asking anyway. Like he hopes some clue would slip... but of course we aren't that simple." The woman looked at the spiderweb filled ceiling, looking thoughtful. "I wonder why he is so obsessed with you."

She looked at her conversational partner. His shoulders looked a bit more stiff than normal, but no other difference could be seen. After the long silence he started writing again, first slower and then with increasing pace.

She sighed at let her head lull back against the armrest. "I just thought you should know." How boring. She had been hoping for much stronger reaction. Maybe her hunch had been wrong, and Byakuya wasn't as affectionate with that idiot as she had thought?

After a few more minutes of lazying on the dusty armchair she got up and left. Byakuya stopped writing again, considering what he should do.

This was unacceptable. Still, against his better knowledge sparks of curiosity, wonder and hope twinkled inside of him. They were smothered quickly. Where he would end soon, there was no need for love.

He started writing again.

There had been more today, five poems. Three of them were vividly descriptive feeling pieces, one resembled a old-fashioned ballad. The fifth one had caught Renji's attention. Mainly because it was clearly addressed to him.

He rubbed his his forehead tiredly, trying to calm his pounding head. The piece of paper, lying so innocently before him on the table, was mocking his past effort and belittling his wish to see the man he had once adored and respected..

Why he wanted to run away so much?

_I know, there is no treasure_

_a worth one man to find _

_rare mirage of twisted reality _

That could mean Byakuya knew he was looking for him, and said it wasn't worth the trouble. Or it could be something else.

_Alas, thorny roses are growing_

_below in the soil of memories_

_alone with the past, sorrow and rage _

Byakuya was obviously far from accepting what had happened. Sorrow and rage, hm? Frustrated Renji sighed and kept on reading.

_Reach, and you shall find pain_

_oh, those hands will be scraped and bloody_

_forbidden, such things truly are_

Well, fuck you. No matter the distance, Byakuya was once again doing pretty decent job in frowning at Renji's best efforts.

The last paragraph was much lower on the page, as it was added on afterthought.

_Forward is the only road_

_the place for the beast in memories_

_shall be six feet under this ground_

That was the part Renji hoped he had understood wrong. Thinking about it, in all the other parts of the poem had a touch of misery, as if Byakuya believed his life had come to an end.

Renji resisted an urge to rip the paper to pieces. That certainly wouldn't do. After all that trouble he wouldn't let Byakuya do something so idiotic.

Was this really the same man Renji had known five years ago? He could remember straight, prideful posture and the contrast between pale skin and raven black hair as he had seen them just yesterday. He wasn't a man who would take his own life, no matter the circumstances.

What sort of horror had his life been after his wife's death?

Renji wanted to see him again. Tell him he was forgiven, he hadn't done anything wrong.

He sighed and looked at his clock. Quarter to six. He had still time to drop over at Urahara's, bum some food and ask him to deliver a message to a friend.

A/N: Can anyone figure out how Renji knew the poem was addressed to him? You'll get cookies if you catch it. :D


	5. Past: Separation

A/N: SO SHORT! It's like a drabble! But the next one will be longer again.

#gives cookies to EulaliaGal and Magickless Sorceress # That's right! You got the smarts.

Also, I have to say I know nothing about the court, neither the system nor the vocabulary. In case you do... pretend you don't. xD

* * *

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.

Rukia looked so small compared to all her surroundings sitting on the chair of the accused, her back straight and posture so elegant it rivaled her brother's. Her big, dark eyes stood out of her pale face even more than they normally did, even though they were downcast and held look of remorse and acceptance of her bitter fate.

Maybe she did accept the future, but Renji didn't. Seeing her usually fiery spirit so tamed and broken pissed him off immensely.

The tattooed red haired man stood out in the court hall as well. He tried to look as presentable as he could, but couldn't fade the punkish attitude and the feeling of stray dog he always wore. The jury, the judge and everyone else in the hall looked at him oddly and smiled a little, as if they believed someone would soon come to point out the hidden camera and everyone would laugh.

Let them mock him, Renji didn't care. He tugged at his suit and tie, feeling the clothes unfitting to his character. He tried his best to ignore the people, the fancy suit and all the things that could distract him from his mission.

His enemy and teacher, Kuchiki Byakuya who was currently the prosecutor in Rukia's case.

He couldn't be any more at home even in his own house. The suit, much more expensive than Renji's, was probably custom made for him. The calm air of properness that always surrounded him was underlined by every detail and object the court hall held..

Cool as it can be.

Renji wasn't a newbie either, even if he hadn't yet gotten used to the atmosphere. He had been taught by the best. If they thought he hadn't learned anything they got it wrong.

The judge signaled session to start. The fight was on.

_I won't lose. _

* * *

"You did a good job for a newbie, Abarai. But as it stands, not good enough."

It was over. Renji had lost, but somehow he wasn't too surprised about it. That made him all the angrier.

The session had ended. People were already leaving the court hall, only Byakya and Renji were left. The defeated red head was sitting on the audience's bench, looking tired and drained. Little farther away, Byakuya was looking him with emotionless, unreadable eyes.

"Do you realize what you have done, you dipshit?" Renji roared, his temperament getting the better of him. The anxious man shoot up from his bench and gripped the front of Byakuya's styled suit. "You have sent her to jail! An innocent woman, and your wife's sister! What will become of her now! Tell me that, you son of a bitch!"

The calm, emotionless surface of Byakuya's gaze momentarily shattered, revealing a glimpse of an agonized, tortured and lonely man.

"You have misunderstood, Abarai." The man stated calmly, recalling his composure quickly. "I no longer have wife." His hands grasped Renji's which were still firmly attached to his jacket and strictly guided them aside. The younger man was too puzzled by the statement and the look in the other's eyes to resist. "What do you mean?"

"The sister of the woman just sentenced to prison died three days ago", Byakuya stated coldly, the vulnerable lok in his eyes already gone. "Now, move out of my way, Abarai."

Unsure what else he could do, Renji stepped out of the way and let the pale man walk past him. Without thanking him or even looking at him, the man walked calmly towards the door, as if Renji had suddenly become invisible.

Only at the door he stopped, but still refused to look back. "There are rules, Abarai." he said tiredly. "Maintaining the authority of those rules is worth more than the happiness of a few selected individuals... or even their lives."

"That's bunch of bullshit. I started this job because I thought that those rules are for protecting people."

Byakuya laughed, but the sound of it was bitter. "You are in the wrong line of work then, Renji. Totally wrong." He said and finally left.

It took fifteen minutes for Renji to realise that Byakuya had first time in their working history addressed him with his given name. On the morning of the following day he went to their shared office and moved out his stuff. Byakuya was nowhere to be seen.

The next time they would see each other would be years and years later.


	6. Lyrics

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.

A/N: This fic has a two set of lyrics. A first set is from Almost Easy by Avenged Sevenfold. Actually, it's a bit misheard version, the bracketed parts say 'Mother' and 'said it all' in the original song. From the first time I listened the song I heard it the way it is put here, and I like it better that way.

The second set is completely mine. Remember: a masterpiece.

* * *

"I'm telling you, this man is crazy", Kurosaki Ichigo said while waving a piece of paper in front of Urahara's face. "Batshit crazy."

The blond man was hiding his mouth behind his fan, trying his very best to hide his obvious amusement. "Ah, how cruel of you, Kurosaki-san! Mind you, Zenbonzakura-san is my old friend. You shouldn't insult him in such a crude manner."

The young man was a vocalist of a rising band, _Shinigami. _His handsome, angular face had a scowl that was apparently permanent. He was sitting on a small cheap plastic chair in a recording studio, and was once more disappointed by the lyrics the anonymous source had written for him to sing.

"Yeah yeah, you have told me that before. " He scoffed, and rubbed his knuckles against his forehead, as in futile attempt to smooth away the lines that looked so strange on his young face. "I just think you should do something for the fact he has gone nuts, being his friend and all."

Urahara, sitting opposite of his young client on a similar chair, looked at him curiously. "His circumstances are quite... unique, Kurosaki-san. As you said, we have had this discussion before. To be honest, I can't see your problem. Zenbonzakura-san's lyrics are quite popular, and they are without a doubt one of the reasons to quick success of your band."

"Don't I know. That's not the point." The younger man waved the paper again, almost hitting Urahara with it. "I know he is good, but that's not the point either. I'm talking about what these lyrics are saying."

Urahara looked a bit cautious, and even more curious. "What do you mean? I have to admit I don't understand, Kurosaki-san."

"Seems like no one does. Geez, makes me thing I'm imagining things." Ichgo opened up the paper he was holding, revealing the words inside it. "Have you ever read these, Urahara-san? Or listened _Shinigami'_s albums?"

The older man nodded, sulking behind the fan still hiding half of his face."Yes, I have done both."

"All the others seem to think it is just a song, as songs were fucking fairytales you just come up with. Most of them probably are just that, but these are real stuff. I can tell." For a moment Ichigo looked sorrowful, the scowl on his face softened a bit by genuine worry and sympathy. "I have lost some stuff too, and I have been batshit crazy as well. Schizophrenic, actually. I know how it feels, and it's like this."

"That's... interesting to hear." Urahara looked thoughtful. He had closed his fan, and was no tapping it against the side of his nose. "You seem to be confident in your ability to read his thoughts and mood. So, how is his inner world like?"

The possible sarcasm in the words went completely unnoticed. "He is lonely. He is tired, lost and bitter about everything that has happened to him, whatever that is. And possibly..." Ichigo shook his head, and ruffled his hear. "Nah. Probably just my imagination."

"What could that be, Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo, looked past him, trying to find right words to describe the nameless feeling of dread. "It's like he would be dying soon, I think. Not being suicidal, but just knowing it will happen."

"Why would that be?" For some reason, Urahara's eyes behind the fan were sparkling with wonder, as if the news was positive for him.

Ichigo shrugged his shoulder. "Beats me. He either has some disease, or he has done what he has to do." He looked at Urahara, suspicious. "What are you up to? I don't trust those eyes, you know. You are planning something evil."

"Ah, nothing evil at all, Kurosaki-san! I just know someone who would be extremely interested in your speculations... a fan, I guess. But not yours, Zenbonzakura's. If you have nothing against it, I would like for you to to meet up and discuss."

"Whatever man, whatever." Ichigo tried his very best to look as bored as possible, but he couldn't hide the fact that he was interested. Urahara smiled behind his fan. He was bound by a promise he had made to Byakuya and wasn't going to break the man's trust by telling on his secrets. This, of course, wouldn't keep him from tying the two end of the rope together and let the information spread another rout.

Things were getting amusing.

* * *

Ichigo eyes at the man before him critically. "You don't look like a type that would be interested in literature."

The red haired man glared back at him. "And you don't look like an idol. You are ugly as fuck."

It was only a day before when Urahara had suggested their meeting, and here the man was already, looking puzzled and somewhat anxious. He had introduced himself as Renji. What the punk had to do with Zenbonzakura (or literature) was beyond Ichigo's understanding.

He raised both of his hands in a desperate gesture. "Fine, be that way. I have no idea why Urahara wanted me to meet you, anyway. I was under the impression he is not interested in helping Zenbonzakura's fans."

The tattooed seemed to force himself to calm down. "Yeah, about that. What is your connection to Zenbonzakura?"

Ichigo's ever present scowl deepened even more at the question. "You make it sound like an interrogation..." he muttered under his breath while grabbing a paper from nearby table, where many others were lying in hazard heaps.

"He writes songs for me", he explained to Renji. "Song that I don't want to sing, to be honest."

The red haired man arched his brow. "Why not? He is good, one of the best."

Ichigo snorted. "Yeah. Yeah. Don't even start about that." He gave the paper to Renji. "Read that and maybe you will understand."

Renji took the piece of lyrics from the singer, curious about what it might say.

_I feel insane every single time I'm asked to compromise  
'Cause I'm afraid and stuck in my ways and that's the way it stays  
So how long did I expect love to outweigh ignorance?  
By that look on your face I may have forced the scale to tip_

_I'm not insane, I'm not... not insane_

_(I'm not)  
Come back to me it's almost easy  
(Sad at all)  
Come back again it's almost easy_

"Starting to get what I mean?" Ichigo asked with a low, annoyed voice. "It's just that I think he is for real. You said he is good? He is, dammit. He translates the loss in these lyrics so well that I don't want to hear of it, any of it, even without mentioning that I should be the one singing it."

He paused. The tattooed man wasn't listening at all, he was still staring at the paper in his hand like it was a coded message. "Hey.. you still with me?"

Renji resisted the urge to close his eyes and open then again, to check if he had really gotten it right. He read them again, carefully analyzing each word. Was this really written by Byakuya? What the hell was happening to him?

Ichigo was getting more and more suspicious. This man wasn't just any random Zenbonzakura fan, he was way too... anxious somehow, and seemed to be more personally than artistically involved. "What's your relationship with him, anyway?"

Renji was forced back to reality with a rude, personal question. He eyed the other angrily, trying to scare him off his back with a scary aura. "Non of your business, idol boy."

Unfortunately, his glare was only returned with similar intensity. "Tough luck, gangster, but I won't help you to get your shit together until I hear what the fuck is this all about."

Some plans are born dead.

"He was my boss. Kinda long ago. Shit happened. I quit. He disappeared. Unhappy end. Something more you want to hear?" Renji growled, gripping the handles of his chair and getting ready to leave. Why was he wasting his time with this boy? He was just a curious brat who had gotten too much too fast and didn't know when to shut up.

Ichigo seemed to get interested about the new facts. "So you knew him? Had he any other friends?"

"No really." Renji wasn't going to start an argument whether Byakuya was his friend or not. He didn't know that himself. "He was the loner type. Worked and ate, occasionally slept. Your point?"

Ichigo reached for a heap of lyrics again, bringing out another paper, a bit newer this time. "Urahara brought me this just yesterday. But it maybe addressed to you."

The originally odd visit was getting more and more confusing. Renji received the new set of lyrics and started reading.

_There is turning point before the dead end_

_If you just have the courage, you can change_

_If you haven't, it's the end of the game_

_Will you be waiting for me, at the turning point?_

_I drove past the place we lived together as friends_

_I'm going to the place where we can live together as more_

_It's decided, week from this day_

_It's decided, new course or the end_

_I'm not strong enough to make a difference_

_But I know you are, so please catch me_

_I'll run no more, so please come and catch me_

_In the place you once promised to take me_

_to taste a life so different from mine _

_You promised, do you remember? _

_To take us to the turning point._

"Do you have any idea what it is?" The orange haired singer yawned and leaned back on his chair. "That is the first one he says something like that, like he hopes something would change. I wonder what will happen..."

Renji seemed thoughtful. "Can I have these lyrics?" He asked, obviously not keen on speculating what might happen.

"Sure, I have copies. This place is full of copies, about every damn thing." Ichigo looked at the other again, a curious vibe colouring his scowl. "You know where that place is? The turning point thing?"

Renji didn't answer.

* * *

A/N: Think, Renji, think! Byakuya is gonna be sad (not even mentioning pissed) if you have forgotten!


	7. Turning Point

Disclaimer: The characters in this story are all owned by Kubo Tite. I make no profit of writing this.

* * *

_**(Flashback)**_

"Abarai, has something peculiar caught your interest?"

Byakuya watched with dissatisfaction as his subordinate half laid on his working table, looking out of the window with a bored expression. Obviously he was not working.

"Hmm...?" The red head snapped back to reality. "Nothing boss," he laughed and scratched his head, embarrassed . "Just thought about that maybe we should relax a little after work, you know, it has been a while since I had a vacation and I beet you don't even remember such a thing existed."

Before Byakuya could voice his disagreement (he had a very vacant idea what 'vacation' meant) Renji pointed at something below them, outside the window. "You see that bar over there? It's a cool place, I often go there with my friends. You should come too. I'll treat you with a beer or something. It would be good for you, getting a taste of a bit different life. Relaxing, not always working."

Maybe Renji had realized he was rambling and had gone too far, or he was nervous for some reason that Byakuya couldn't quite understand. Whether the case was, the colour of his face matched the one of his hair.

Somehow the intended words of dismissal died on Byakuya's lips, and he smiled instead. "Maybe I will," he mused and dropped his gaze back to his work. "Unfortunately I am busy today, Abarai. But I shall remember your promise to... let me have a taste of what you inclined."

Renji looked pleased. "Hai, boss! It's a promise then." He smiled, the huge grin spreading on his face.

"Now, back to the work Abarai."

"...Hai, boss."

_**(End of flashback)**_

* * *

The rain fell from heaven, cold and biting like a final judgement. People with umbrellas and raincoats ran in all directions, in hurry to make it into a warm and comfortable place before getting completely soaked. Only one person sat in place, as if not noticing how the freezing water made his raven hair stick into his pale face.

In the end, he didn't come.

Maybe it is better this way, Byakuya mused as he watched the time tick away from his wristwatch. What had he expected? That Renji would have arrived there, forgiven and forgotten their sorrowful past? That he had, against all the odds, caught the message of regret filled words?

It was no quarter past eight. No one was going to come here. Waiting here was pointless and stpid. Still, Byakuya couldn't cut his last strands of hope and walk away from the rainy street.

This was it. Somehow it was very fitting end for his story; a dead end. All of the words had been finally said, and it was his time to go on to the other world, where his wife was waiting for him. There was nothing to keep him in this world any longer, no matter how much he wanted to believe the opposite.

Time ticked forward. Half past eight. The street was completely empty. The rain poured down, unforgiving and merciless.

He rose from his place and started to head back to his car, wondering if he should drive back to his place or end the matter with his life in the fastest possible way, making his car to crash down from some bridge.

At the same time another figure was running towards the spot the other had just left. He panted and leaned onto his knees, as if he had just ran for his life. He checked his watch, finding it way too late.

"Fuck!" The figure looked hastily around him, praying that he hadn't lost his only chance. On the narrow street a lone figure was about to disappear behind the curtain of rain. He managed to see a glimpse of long, black hair and an outline of a soaked suit.

"Byakuya!"

The other figure turned around, a look of disbelief in his eyes. Renji finally caught up, and grinned victoriously as he saw that he had found the man he was looking for.

"A traffic jam", he explained. For the first time in so many years he get a good look of another man. He had lost weight and possibly gotten even paler, or maybe it was the effect of the rain. Byakuya's eyes were wide like a deer's caught in headlights, making him appear as he was about to run away.

Renji wasn't having any of that. He wasn't the same as he had been five years ago, either. The red mane had grown longer and the tattoos on his forehead were fiercer. However, his grin was still same and it made Byakuya smile back, although faintly.

It was a nostalgic moment. Renji laughed and grasped the man in a bearlike hug, refusing to let go despite the other's feeble resistance.

"I finally caught you, didn't I? Damn, you didn't make it easy. Sorry that I made you wait so long, but you know me, I'm a bit slow. Now lets get you to some warm place."

Byakuya let himself to be dragged with childlike enthusiasm towards the restaurant. He felt already a bit warmer than before, and not as empty. Maybe there was still something for him, place in this world.

He gave the sky one more look before both of them disappeared into the modest looking building. _Am I forgiven, Hisana?_

The rain was fading into a drizzle.

* * *

A/N: And of course he remembered... we wouldn't have gotten our happy ending otherwise.

Yup, that's the end. Thank you for reading.


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